ROUND 4: Opposites Attract
by CURUS
Summary: AU: The summer of Voldemort's Return, Malfoy Manor is home base. A story for the Quidditch League FanFiction Competition.


**Title**/Link: Opposites Attract

**Team**: Tutshill Tornadoes

**Position**: Chaser 3

**A/N**: Welcome to the fourth round of The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition!

Guideline:

Number 8: Setting, Malfoy Manor

Prompts:

2. "Lesson Learnt?"

3. Danger

5. Addiction

Details: 1000 – 3000 WORDS. Rated T

(2278 words)

AU

His right leg was heavy, cooling crimson blood onto the bright marble floor. As he limped, his foot dragging against the polished surface the blood left a trail, an indication to his pain and condition while he manoeuvered himself through the lavish hallways of Malfoy Manor. He didn't care that Lucius and Narcissa would complain about the mess. He was injured and the emergency portkey given to him by Narcissa was made specifically for such an occasion, tact be damned. He paused to lean on the wall, his heavy wool and battered black cloak stained in dirt, mud and blood left smudges along the ivory. He doubled over in pain as his body could no longer fight the need to cough. The hacks and wheezing rang through the seemingly empty and spacious manor sending echoes of his turmoil throughout the air. The echoes managed to penetrate the darkest deepest corners. He needed water, or maybe a bath, something to clean his wounds and parch his throat. Taking a deep wavering breath, the burly man under the cloak continued on, his chest rising and falling as he panted loudly and uncontrollably.

The glare of the sun hit the white and luxurious trinkets and expensive framed paintings of the Malfoy Lineage family members. He ignored the complaints of his haggard appearance and continued on, heaving and sighing and paused every five steps or so to catch his breath and let the coughs wrack through his bleeding body. He would be damned if he would die here, in the hallway of a home he knew too well. He finally reached the end of the hallway to a large double door, white with a glistening silver doorknob. He could not touch it, the silver would irritate his skin. He threw his heavy body against the door, the silver hinges snapped and broke and he and the heavy painted oak came crashing down on the other side. It revealed a Persian carpeted room covered wall to wall with shelves of books. It was rather small and quaint; he quite liked the bonsai trees that decorated the little table beside a velvet couch. Something usually so big could be so small. Narcissa was fond of foreign trinkets and this little study room was hers. Lucius preferred to have wealthy English artifacts and could barely stomach the room due to the worldly decorations.

"Merlin's beard!" He heard as he crashed helplessly onto the door staining the white red with his blood. "Who the bloody hell are you?" The boy was in her room. Her sanctuary. He briefly wondered what he was doing home, but remembered it was summer, the infernal school had let out the fifteen year old man child hence his presence, grating voice and all. He groaned in discomfort and kept his eyes closed as he felt his hood being moved to reveal the back of his head. "Bloody hell what happened to you Fenrir?" He grunted, still panting and lying face down. "They're in the basement, how did you get in here?" Did he not understand he was in pain? The brat should get help! Useless human. He growled low and could smell the spike of fear. "Hold on a sec…" He heard shuffling and footsteps getting farther and farther away. He wondered if the boy would bring his dear maiden, the only witch he'd ever let touch him. She was a treasure, poise and kind, he couldn't fathom as to how she entangled herself with Lucius.

He tried not to focus on the pain, he focused on Narcissa, the woman who healed him when he couldn't help but go a little overboard in his missions for the monstrous Dark Lord. That creature was anything but human and he couldn't help but adore it. It was why he would follow him, take the mark. A gruesome smile spread across his face and he coughed, the pain enhancing. He let memories of Narcissa's healing hands fill his brain and all he could do was hope the boy was smart enough to retrieve her. He wondered if Lucius knew that his wife had granted him free reign to enter the manor as he pleased. It wasn't uncommon for his fellow Death Eaters to roam the manor, but they were usually limited to the basement and meetings with the Dark Lord. He couldn't really explain the affection he had for her, quick to ensure his safety and all, he was almost afraid to ask her what motive she had for helping him. He knew well the fear muggles and wizards had for his kind but she never held it against him. It was somewhat refreshing. Since her help he had been rather pushy, hoping to frighten the blonde haired maiden away with his cruelty and primitive nature. She had yet to be repulsed by his tactics and that was what enticed him.

"He's right there!" The boy was back. He sighed, such an awful reminder that she had mated with such an inferior race of being.

"Thank you Draco. Retire to your room for the afternoon." Her sweet voice filled his senses and Fenrir attempted to roll over to get a better look. The pain in his rib cage stopped him and he grunted in agony again.

"But mum!"

"Draco." Her stern voice was revitalizing to hear, the boy was a spoilt little cub if he ever did see one. Seeing her put her foot down on his whiny and pouting nature gave him a little hope that she would consider a life with him. Away from the inconsiderate and selfish humans she mated with. He must have lost a lot of blood, he was dreaming again…

He felt her soft warm hands pressing gently along his side and marvelled as she managed to roll him over quickly and effortlessly. He squinted his eyes open, seeing her impassive beautiful face, she was busy studying him. Her calculating blue eyes were transfixed on his wounds and he felt the draft realizing she had removed his outer cloak. He could feel the familiar tingling sensation as her wand waved above him, she only moved her left hand to wipe a bead of sweat off an elegant brow. She was everything he was not, his total opposite. While he was primitive and hideous, she was refined and gorgeous. He was always enamoured by the care she displayed, the concentration in her craft and he wondered what thoughts crossed her pretty little head as she healed his battle wounds and prevented grotesque scars from accumulating. Feeling better though sore, Fenrir sat up, gazing at Narcissa as she tucked her wand up the sleeve of her silk blouse. Neither could look away, neither could speak. She took something from her skirt pocket, handing it to him without breaking eye contact. Fenrir felt the smoothness of the vial and without hesitation brought it to his lips.

He sipped the potion, feeling his energy return and licked the corners of his mouth as it dribbled down to his chin. She was frowning at him, clearly disapproving of something and he couldn't help but wonder if it was his lack of etiquette.

"It's a blood replenishing potion… You left quite a mess." She spoke again in the same dismayed tone as her features and Fenrir couldn't help but widen his grin displaying his yellow sharp teeth. She didn't recoil, she never recoiled away from his barbaric tendencies. She produced a handkerchief and politely dabbed away at his chin.

"Why offer your services when Severus is the one for this?" He asked in his usual gruff and deep tone.

"Severus is busy with other things, he has another mission. The Dark Lord and Lucius asked me this favour." She pointed out, tucking the kerchief into his pocket. He merely tilted his head to the side.

"Do others have a portkey?" She shook her head and he barked out a laugh. Having been in close proximity he could easily read her usual apathetic face by the glint in her eyes. She was slightly embarrassed. He couldn't help but push her a little, his curiosity winning out. "Why show favoritism Narcissa?"

"You do the most brutish work. Besides, I cannot do little when you need much more." He eyed her carefully, for someone who seemed down for the cause she still had yet to take the mark, be claimed like other others. She was a rather regal and intriguing woman. A witch human woman at that. "Where were you this time?"

"Galtymore Mountains in Ireland with a group of nomadic wizards and were-wizards. I was supposed to court them."

"I told you already Fenrir, if your charisma was to be measured by numbers, it would be negative thirty two." She shook her head in disbelief. "Life risking situations are things you seem to never stay away from. You are attracted to them like moths to flames…" She gave him a cold look then. "I warned you that there will be a time where you won't be so lucky and what then?" He bit his cheek to keep from correcting her. He was not addicted to the danger or the battling, but it was the timeless beauty at his side. She rarely entangled herself with the other Death Eaters and she never questioned her orders. This fair haired maiden was the only non-werewolf to ever treat him with respect. He liked that everyone held respect for her, taking care of them, making sure their meetings ran smoothly. She was a wonderful consort. Unfortunately Lucius was undeserving of such a diamond. Her cheeks tinged pink as the worry in her eyes gave them a glassy look, her perfect face and features were contorted as if she had sucked a lemon and Fenrir marvelled at how she still managed to look so gorgeous while containing her rage. Her voice never flickered in discomfort. What would it take for her to break?

"You'll always be here." He muttered, raising a hand and looking around at the once well-kept room. "It's why you gave me this." He pulled out the gold chain she had made into a portkey and her gaze softened, returning to its usual calm cool and collected look.

"Then maybe I shouldn't be. Severus is almost done his mission anyway then he can be your main healer. You'll never learn anything if you continue to barrel your way with the tasks given to you by the Dark Lord. There is more to these tasks. There is a lesson to be learnt."

"Lesson learnt? This is war, the strongest win, the weak perish." He growled and she gave him an icy cold glare, turning away from him.

"As a pawn, you don't have to make it that way." Anger spiked in him before he could comprehend why. With a feral snarl he had lunged on top of her, snatching her wrist and slamming her into a pool of his own blood, wrists above her head. Narcissa's startled expression was still reserved, her eyes widened and he could feel her heart beating in her chest. Her scent of fear was as alluring as the emotion in her eyes. He was a hair's breath from her lips, snarling, glaring at her with his angry yellow eyes.

"You know **nothing**." He placed his open mouth, his teeth, on her shoulder. She didn't make a sound, she was stiff underneath him. "I could easily break your neck, change you into the darkest nightmare of your dreams and yet you pester me with your petty concerns and worries. Why? I am a beast and attempting to tame a beast is worse than allowing him free access into your home." He inhaled her sweet lilac scent, her fear was baiting quickly, he applied a bit of pressure and she was still stiff as stone. This woman…

"Do it. Bite me then." She whispered, almost excited. Fenrir glanced at her face, she looked relaxed, calm again. His brain thudded painfully in his head, did she know what she was asking? He would comply. He was a man of his word. He moved to her shoulder, he would bite her but not in the way she'd hope. She let out a gasp as his teeth sunk into her flesh. As quick as it pierced Fenrir pulled away, sucking it until it bruised. Satisfied, he sat up, looking down at her helpless figure. He could see her bluff, tears streaming silently down her face. He snarled and stood up, looking down at her. With shaking fingers did she graze the bite. "I'm not bleeding…" Her words were slow and distracted. She sat up, a dishevelled Narcissa Malfoy before him. "Is this how the change starts?" He glared at her, irritated for her ignorance concerning wolves.

"I've **claimed** you." Her eyes widened, questions brimming that he refused to answer. He grabbed the tattered remains of his cloak and walked pass a frozen Narcissa. He was still seething with unquenched rage, perhaps he'd pay for marking and claiming a woman, a witch and a married one at that. No matter, by laws of the wolves, she was his, he owned her, and that was that. She thought she knew everything, that she knew him. She knew **nothing** and he had until the next full moon to mate with her or she'd turn, He grinned, she had asked and he had delivered. He could only hope his hunches of her were true or his wish to see a broken Narcissa would come to fruition. He laughed down the hallway, a malicious sound as he knew he'd be responsible for the pieces.


End file.
